Unable to feed the hunger, it’s unbearable,
The more It’s repressed, the more It’s unstable,
But what am I feeding, do I ask?
What is hiding, under this mask.
Seven deadly sins, I would happily take,
To fill this inescapable void, before I break,
The control I hold, its wearing thin,
I can feel it rising, under my skin.
One day I will not recognise, my reflection,
It’s like an incurable disease, spreading its infection,
The worst part I fear, I may actually revel,
Letting myself go, and becoming the devil.
The fantasy I’ve lived, is now turning to hell,
Walls are closing in, my minds a cell,
If only to escape, if only to break free,
But how can i run, when the problem is me.